Chapter Text
It’d been a painfully tense few days - not just for Ed, but the entire crew aboard the Revenge . When Stede had returned, flanked with the crew the Kraken had abandoned, a flurry of emotions had kicked up in Ed’s torso. Anger burning like a fire in his chest, yearning laying like a heavy pit in his stomach. Even after Stede’s frantic apology - and less frantic explanation - those emotions consumed Ed. Each day, though, the fire burned a little dimmer and the pit weighed a little more.
But in the meantime, the ship was in limbo. Ed remained alone in the captain’s quarters, and Stede drifted to different sleeping spots. Ed barely spoke a word to him, just mere grunts as he instead addressed any other crewmate.
It isn’t quite dawn yet; the entire world is bathed in that pink pre-morning light, the sun just about to tease the horizon. Ed can’t sleep - he’s been getting shitty nights of sleep since the fucking dock, when all his plans for running away with Stede were dashed. Thoughts like that make the flame of anger flicker brighter, but they’re always followed up by thoughts of Stede, alone in the forest with that stupid motherfucker , being told he defiles everything he touches, and it makes Ed’s chest ache and that pit of longing grow.
When he walks out onto the deck, the first thing Ed notices is the heavy sounds of overlapping snores. The second thing he notices is Stede, leaning against the railing at the bow of the ship, staring out at the sea. The fire is the dimmest it’s ever been, and likewise, the pit is the heaviest, so Ed steels himself and picks his way through the knot of sleeping pirates, finally finding a spot next to Stede.
He looks over at Ed, eyebrows lifting and eyes widening, but he doesn’t say anything, instead looking back out at the expanse of blue, so dark that it almost appears purple.
Ed settles, leaning forward onto the railing, resting on his forearms. He allows the companionable silence for now.
“I truly am sorry,” Stede says eventually. In his peripheral, Ed can see the way Stede turns toward him, but his own vision remains staunchly on the sea. “It wasn’t right of me to leave you like that, but… all I could think about was what Badminton said to me, and the way you gave up piracy. All I could see were the ways knowing me changed you.” He pauses, and Ed finally gives in to his urges and looks at Stede. He looks… fucking awful. Like he’s lost just as much sleep as Ed has. But he also looks wonderful, bathed in gentle light, hair lit like a halo.
And Ed…
He can’t help but shift, lean in, rest one hand on Stede’s cheek and the other, curled, against his neck. Their noses are barely brushing, and Ed is staring at Stede’s lips. He’s not entirely okay, yet, with everything that happened, but he knows the anger will continue to die, and his trust will come back, and he at least feels well enough about this.
As their lips meet, Stede’s hands come up to hold the back of Ed's neck, pulling him even closer. The kiss is patient and chaste and long, and when Ed pulls away, there's a slight burn in his lungs from want of air.
"I know you're still mad," Stede says into the small space now between their lips. His gaze is cast downwards. "As is your right."
Except Ed isn't entirely sure he is mad anymore. Not when Stede is standing before him, fingers curled and tangled in the hair closest to Ed's neck, expression the perfect picture of earnestly apologetic. Not with the image of Stede staring down the barrel of a gun and thinking he ruined Ed in his head.
“Fuck, I’m not mad, man. I mean, I was, but now I’m not,” Ed says, thumb running across Stede’s cheekbone. “And for the record, I like who I became because of you.”
Any last flickering flame of Ed’s anger is extinguished by the smile Stede gives him, pure delight alight in his eyes. He thinks that he knew as soon as Stede returned that this was inevitable. And the crew is starting to audibly wake, now - snores subsiding, greetings of muttered “g’morning”, the sounds of shifting bodies -, breaking the illusion of privacy, so Ed lets his hands fall.
“Maybe you can join me tonight in the captain’s quarters and we can discuss things further,” he suggests, quiet, preserving that small private space between their lips even as Stede’s hands retreat. And Stede’s eyes continue to shine, his expression remains as happy as before.
“Of course,” he replies, and their little moment ends, giving way to their expected day of sailing.